Page 24 of Bonded to The Boo Hag

While I enjoyed the experience and the challenge of their differences from human subjects I had painted in the past, I was rusty. So I practiced. I sketched, warming up the muscles again, prepared canvases, and gave it a go.

And sketched Palmer like a fucking stalker every chance I got.

Sketching has always helped me think. In school, doodling was more effective than taking notes—the pictures kept me active so I could stay in one spot and listen. It became a way to work through difficult feelings in my adolescence. When I started winning awards in my junior and senior years of high school, I was locked in. I was an artist. Going to art school was the natural next step, and I thrived.

But when life changed so suddenly with the death of our parents and the onset of Gemmy’s cancer, I stopped creating. It seemed…

Palmer’s laughter had my lips curving into a smile in response. My sister was fingerspelling “anus,” ASL for calling someone an asshole.

My wife can’t even ask to go to the bathroom yet, but my sister thinks it’s important to teach her every swear word she can think of.

I shook my head at how on-brand that was for her and, at the same time, so positive in terms of her healing. Returning to my sketch, I rubbed my finger along the curve of Palmer’s nose to soften my shading.

“Knock-knock,” Dr. Xiong said while rapping on the door to Gemmy’s room. “I was wondering if I could steal away Mrs. Duvall for a few moments?”

Palmer sighed, and I recognized a playful twinkle in her eye when she leaned in and stage-whispered to Gemmy, “I think she is going to try to get more money out of me. She’s obsessed with human medical diagnostic equipment.”

Dr. Xiong crossed her arms good-naturedly. “Well, you are the only one who can get me my fix, so I’m not sorry at all, you enabler.”

Palmer threw back her head and laughed.

Smirking because Palmer was also supporting my art habit, I closed my sketchbook and unfolded my body from the armchair I had taken over.

I walked over to Palmer, wrapping my arm around her waist when she stood. I kissed her temple before saying and signing, “We’re good here if you want to go, right Gemmy?”

Gemmy’s eyes narrowed, taking us in, and she nodded her agreement instead of commenting.

Which meant she was saving all the comments she had for me.

Palmer took what we said at face value, a pretty blush staining her cheeks as she walked away with Dr. Xiong. I watched her go and turned around, only to find Gemmy had moved.

I sighed, seeing her flipping through my sketchbook.

She looked at each page, and I knew I didn’t have to explain anything. In my sketches, she would be able to see what I was just coming to terms with myself.

She put the sketchbook down, crossed the room, and pulled me into a hug. Tears filled my eyes and emotion clogged my throat. She pulled back and I let her go, then retrieved my sketchbook and slid it back into my leather messenger bag. I sat on her bed and she joined me.

“All I want is for you to be happy.” She sniffled as tears ran down her face. “When you stopped painting, I thought I had taken all your joy.”

“No,” I signed, my index and middle finger slapping my thumb. “You didn’t. I just lost myself for a while. It’s not your fault.”

Gemmy wiped her face.

“It is the cancer’s fault, I know,” she continued, signing angrily, “but I still felt that way. Now, thanks to my cancer, you have Palmer.”

I made a face. “I’d rather say that thanks to you, I met my wife.”

Gemmy’s eyes widened. “Your wife? So you admit it?”

Deciding to be an ass, I signed, “Yes, we’ve been handfasted officially for a little over two months now; what else should I be calling her?”

Gemmy slapped my leg, flowing into a rapid scolding that even I had trouble keeping up with. “And this is what I mean—you are such a dumbass!” she signed, huffing at my inability to state my feelings. Or at least I think that’s what she meant.

“What are you trying to say?”

“Is Palmer going to be my sister-in-law?” She leaned forward, excitedly bouncing.

“I keep telling you we are handfasted, so I don’t understand the question.” I scooted back, barely getting away from my sister’s fists of fury.

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